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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309371">moon song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows'>aceofsparrows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Songfic, sorry - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:27:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They are two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin, a light and a shadow, day and night. They are Ethari and Runaan, Runaan and Ethari. </p><p>* * * </p><p>angsty songfic about Ruthari's relationship inspired by Phoebe Bridger's "Moon Song"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain/Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>moon song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Birthday Ethari! I am so so so sorry in advance for this...</p><p>I recommend listening to Phoebe Bridger's song "Moon Song" while you read.</p><p>tw for implied (canonical) torture &amp; major character sort-of death. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>You asked to walk me home<br/>
But I had to carry you</b>
  </em>
</p><p>”I still don’t understand what the point of this is,” Ethari says when he finds Runaan at the edge of the clearing. The sun is just starting to rise, and the young elf is sitting propped up against a thick tree’s trunk, his left eye bruised and his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. Runaan smiles at Ethari wryly, his swollen lip making the amiable gesture slightly grotesque. </p><p>“You came, though.” </p><p>Ethari sighs. “You told me to come, Runaan. I’m always going to come when you tell me to.” He approaches Runaan, taking in his injuries. “You don’t try to kill each other in these exercises, do you?”</p><p>“Not usually,” Runaan replies, wincing when Ethari lays a gentle hand on his rapidly swelling ankle. Their gazes meet, but Ethari looks away quickly, going back to inspecting his friend. </p><p>“Do you think you can walk home?” He asks. Runaan scoffs. </p><p>“Definitely not.” </p><p>“Okay, then.” Ethari moves closer, tucking one arm behind Runaan’s back and the other underneath his legs. “Ready?” Runaan nods, and Ethari lifts the other elf easily. Runaan steadies himself with an arm around Ethari’s neck, but it’s less a gesture of physical safety and more an emotional anchor. Ethari is stronger than he looks; he spends most of his days at the forge, carefully sculpting weapons, tools, and jewelry for the Silvergrove. His hands, though calloused, are gentle and steady. </p><p>Always steady. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>And you pushed me in<br/>
And now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“That was a <em>terrible</em> joke, Lain,” Tiadrin laughs, trying to look appalled despite her mirth. Lain grins. </p><p>“But it was funny, wasn’t it? It can’t be <em>that</em> terrible if you’re laughing at it,” he points out, and Tiadrin rolls her eyes. </p><p>“Runaan, what d’you think? Runaan?” </p><p>Runaan blinks. “Hmm?” </p><p>Tiadrin gives him a knowing look. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?” She follows his gaze, noticing Ethari in the distance teaching a young elf, maybe five at the most, how to make a little tree out of silver wire. “Have you told him yet?” She asks, nudging Runaan with her elbow. </p><p>“It just never seems like the right moment,” Runaan mutters, still watching Ethari. The wee one has pricked their finger on the sharp end of the wire, and Ethari is wiping away their tears. </p><p>“Will it ever be, though?” Lain asks, and Runaan tears his gaze away from Ethari long enough to glare at his friend. Lain shrugs. “What? I’m just sayin’…” </p><p>“I know,” Runaan sighs, gaze drifting back to Ethari in the distance. The wee elf he’s helping has finished their tree, and Ethari is grinning, applauding their hard work. “He’s just… he’s <em>everything</em>.” </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>You couldn’t have, you couldn’t have<br/>
Stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody<br/>
Who loves you more</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>So I will wait for the next time you want me<br/>
Like a dog with a bird at your door</b>
  </em>
</p><p>There is something so intoxicating about love; something so thrilling and powerful about <em>being in love</em>. It consumes their thoughts, dapples their greyest days in sunlight, fills their hearts like nothing else. </p><p>They are two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin, a light and a shadow, day and night. They are Ethari and Runaan, Runaan and Ethari. </p><p>The night they are married, a full moon (as is custom), they dance and dance and dance. </p><p>It is the beginning of forever. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>We hate Tears in Heaven<br/>
But it’s sad that his baby died<br/>
And we fought about John Lennon<br/>
Until I cried<br/>
And then went to bed upset</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“You are not taking Rayla with you, Runaan,” Ethari says, tone hard. They fight so rarely, but on this front he is immovable. “She is a <em>child</em>, love. A <em>child</em>.” </p><p>Runaan’s nostrils flare, his mouth a thin, angry line. “Rayla is far advanced for her age, and is rapidly nearing her moment of truth. This is the mission of our <em>lives</em>, Ethari. She <em>must</em> come, and she <em>must</em> prove her worth.” </p><p>“<em>Your </em>life, Runaan. This is the mission of <em>your</em> life, but it doesn’t have to be Rayla’s. She is worth just as much whether she kills the prince herself or whether she stays here with me. You, of all people, should know that.” His finger is raised accusatorially, and there is a resolve in his eyes Runaan doesn’t often see. </p><p>“There’s only one way to settle this; we’ll ask her ourselves,” Runaan says, and Ethari closes his eyes for a moment, sighing in frustration. “Rayla?” Runaan calls, and the young elf scrambles into the room, obviously startled from eavesdropping in the next room. </p><p>“Y-yes, Runaan?” </p><p>“Do you want to go on the mission?” He asks, but he’s not looking at Rayla. His eyes never waver from Ethari’s. </p><p>“Yes, yes of course, Runaan!” Rayla says eagerly, slightly stunned, and Runaan nods. Ethari’s still mad at him, it’s clear, but his gaze has softened with acceptance. </p><p>“She’s going,” he says, and it’s not a question anymore, but it’s not a victory either. It’s a fact, and nothing more. </p><p>Ethari leaves the room with tears in his eyes, and Runaan’s aren’t dry either. </p><p>They do not speak to each other for the rest of the day. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Now I’m dreaming<br/>
And you’re singing at my birthday<br/>
I’ve never seen you smiling so big</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>It’s nautical themed<br/>
And there’s something I’m supposed to say<br/>
But can’t for the life of me remember what it is</b>
  </em>
</p><p>The day after they leave, he dreams of childhood. They were young, younger than Rayla is now, and Lain and Tiadrin and Runaan had thrown him a party for his birthday. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, but it was theirs, and it was perfect. The air beginning to cool with the fall of autumn, they danced as the moon rose full and bright, laughing at the stars. </p><p>It was the first time he saw Runaan smile, and the first time he realised what he felt for him was beyond words. </p><p>It was perfect. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>And if I could give you the moon<br/>
I would give you the moon</b>
  </em>
</p><p>Something is wrong. He sees the red arrow fly East to the Spire, but the lotuses in the pond have started to sink. He watches them almost constantly, clutching his moon opal and <em>hoping hoping hoping</em>. </p><p>Something is so very wrong. </p><p>The moon wanes, slow and methodical. </p><p>Ethari’s hands are shaking. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>You are sick, and you’re married<br/>
And you might be dying<br/>
But you’re holding me like water in your hands</b>
  </em>
</p><p>It is dark in the dungeon, but that doesn’t bother Runaan. Darkness is peaceful for a Moonshadow elf, comfortable and safe. </p><p>The dungeon isn’t safe. </p><p>His arm is losing feeling by hour. Time, though slow and loose, passes inevitably, punctuated only by Viren’s visits of malice. He wants information about the mirror, but Runaan isn’t telling him. Something dark lurks in that mirror; the dragons were guarding it for a reason. Runaan will not be the one to unleash that darkness upon the world, even if it costs him his life. </p><p><em>I am already dead,</em> he tells himself over and over. <em>I have failed, and I am already dead. I am already dead. I am already dead. </em></p><p>And yet he wants to live. He sees Ethari in the darkness, whispering to his moon opal, pacing by the pool. </p><p>He wonders, half-conscious, if Rayla is still alive. His little blade… He has made the ultimate mistake. </p><p>He is already dead. </p><p>
  <em>
    <b>When you saw the dead little bird, you started crying<br/>
But you know the killer doesn’t understand</b>
  </em>
</p><p>Viren is chanting, but Runaan does not hear him. He is thinking only of the moon, waning, slow and methodical. </p><p>There’s something twistedly beautiful in the pain, haunting and silent, shining in the half-moon light of his mind’s eye. It could kill him, but oh, it would kill him softly.</p><p>The lotus sinks. </p><p><em>I am already dead</em>.</p>
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